


Scorch My Soul

by thevalesofanduin



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Horror, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Ghosts, M/M, Romance, a scary romantic with a twist, is that ok for everyone?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-18
Updated: 2017-10-23
Packaged: 2018-10-07 08:54:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 16,318
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10356762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thevalesofanduin/pseuds/thevalesofanduin
Summary: Jim Kirk is many things, from lifeguard to expertise flirt and a wisher of a more accomplished life in-between. He is not, however, a believer in the paranormal side of the world. But when his car breaks down in backwater Georgia and good, handsome Samaritan Leonard McCoy comes to his rescue he might start believing in miracles.Until his dream starts turning into a nightmare.





	1. Chapter 1

The amber leaves of autumn are a small whirlwind down the asphalt in the wake of the red Chevy that’s just sped past the Welcome Stranger sign.

The sky is blue, the sun pleasant in a way only a late autumn sun can be and the rumble of the car’s V8 mixes unexpectedly well with the beautiful flow of Einaudi’s piano.

The weather’s perfect for a road trip which is all the better for Jim’s hardly covered half of his journey from Miami all the way up to just south of Des Moines. One world to another and he both dreads and anticipates the moment he’ll cross the Iowa state-line marking his first coming home in over six years.

Now, though, his mind is far away from his nephew’s baptism and the reality of seeing his family again – he’s never visited them since he moved south, chasing a dream of freedom. Instead, he’s enjoying the sun, the rolling hills and considers staying in the area for the night because he’d love to see the sun rise over the neatly lined rows of pecan trees.

 

He finds himself driving through a quaint little village with extra emphasis on the little part.

Its main street has a post office, mini-market and a café that sells too-sweet iced tea and a peach upside-down cake that Jim can’t resist. He gets himself the biggest piece they have and when he’s half a mile out of town pulls over at a small peach orchard for a short picnic-break.

The iced tea is almost thick with sugar and when he’s finished his cake his fingers are sticky from peach juice.

He’s sitting on the hood of his car, licking his fingers clean and lets the sun bask over him as he watches the orchard.

The trees seem to sway on the breeze, a soft rustling of leaves filling the air. Up-and-down in a gentle motion almost like small waves crashing upon the shore. It’s calming and Jim closes his eyes, leans back against the hood of the car and lets the sun warm his face.

For a moment all is peaceful until Jim’s eyes fly open and he shoots up.

He watches the orchard with a dawning horror in his eyes and a feeling of dread that seems to seep into his bones.

There’s no wind, no breeze.

_No wind_

The peach trees still seems to beckon to him, though. Up-and-down on a non-existent breeze.

He scrambles off of the hood of the car, stumbles to the driver’s seat and he’s not even thinking, overtaken by the instinct of _go, run, flee_!

Because trees don’t move by themselves and although Jim’s not known for believing in the paranormal side of the world he’s happy enough to make an exception if it means he doesn’t have to find out why peach trees suddenly seem to have a life of their own.

He takes two tries before he gets the key into the slot and when he turns it the engine starts with its usual roar, stutters and then dies.

For a moment, the world around him seems to fall away and he sits staring accusingly at the steering wheel while his body’s numb in unknown fear. It’s the kind of fear that sends a chill down his spine, that makes it feel as if he’s in slow-motion when he turns to the field and it’s cold through his veins as he watches the green leaves dance.

He thinks, fleetingly and without humor, that this is almost too much like a horror movie although he won’t actually be stupid enough to go into the orchard to explore.

“Fuck,” he mumbles and his voice is shaky around the word.

He tries again, turning the key in the ignition but the engine only stutters and whines, hacks like a dying dinosaur and Jim lets out a frustrated sigh.

Suddenly a shadow falls over him from right next to the driver’s side of the car. “You okay there?”

“Jesus!” Jim shrieks, almost launches himself into the passenger seat and he hits the horn whose screech is almost as loud as his beating heart.

He’s all trembling body and cold fear with a gearstick bruising his lower back as he raises his eyes up to the window.

For a split second he dreads what he’ll see but then he catches sight of tanned skin, slightly disheveled brown hair and gray eyes and _damn_.

The man chuckles - deep and rumbling and Christ, it’s one of the sexiest things Jim’s heard in a while. “Not quite…” He drawls, lips quirked up in cocky amusement and dark eyes twinkling with impish humor.

Jim huffs an awkward, relieved laugh that trails off into a slightly embarrassed silence.

The man places a hand on top of the roof of the car and leans in a bit closer, humor now mixed with seriousness. “Question remains, though. You okay?”

“Yea,” Jim nods and pushes himself up, wincing slightly because _ouch_ he’s definitely going to have a gear-stick shaped bruise on his lower-back.

The good Samaritan steps back from the car, allowing Jim the space he needs to slide out of it. “Yea, I’m fine.” He mumbles, nods and tries very hard not to look at the trees behind him. “Just some engine troubles.”

The other casts an appreciating glance over the car before he turns his eyes back to Jim. “You reckon you could fix it yourself or do you need to bring it to the shop?”

“Sure, if I had the tools for it.” Jim shrugs and then pats the roof of the car with a grin. “She’s an old lady, this one. Runs like a dream most of the time but there’s times she needs some TLC. Specially with the salty air in Miami.”

He doesn’t say that she hasn’t broken down in ages, though so why would it happen now? He also doesn’t mention the leaves lest the man think he’s a complete nutcase for thinking peach trees are responsible for his car breaking down.

All right, he tells himself feeling quite silly all of a sudden, maybe you are overreacting a bit.

For a moment the man seems to consider something, eyes jumping from Jim to the car and back before he seems to come to a decision with a nod and a small grin. “Good, let’s go.”

Jim blinks, backpedals because did he miss something when he was thinking – he didn’t – and then blurts: “Excuse me?”

“I’ve got enough tools and parts in my garage to replace the whole engine if you want to. You’re welcome to use them.” The man offers.

Jim’s done enough hitchhiking and couch surfing in his youth that his doubt is mainly about whether or not he’ll be able to fix the car rather than the more dangerous prospects of staying with a stranger – plus, it’d be terribly nice to get away from those damned trees. And when he catches those gray eyes that remind him of a stormy summer afternoon he decides that when life hands you lemons, he’ll always be the guy to make lemonade.

He grins. “Awesome, that’d be great actually thanks so much.”

“No problem,” the man waves a hand in the air and then his eyes widen for a moment. “And where are my manners? I’m Leonard McCoy,” he introduces with an outstretched hand.

Jim shakes the other’s hand – thinks the aircon must’ve been on high in the pickup for the man’s hands to be this cold – with a smile. “Jim Kirk.”

Leonard grins and it’s dimples, white teeth and laugh lines around his eyes. “It’s a pleasure, Jim.”

 _Oh yes_ , Jim finds himself thinking, _a pleasure indeed._

 

Leonard is a handy guy, it seems, with a tow rope in his car.

They’re slowly driving away, Leonard in his black pickup towing the Chevy with Jim at the wheel.

Jim’s rolled down the windows and really, a small breeze would do so much to fight the heat of a not-air-conditioned car.

A breeze… he feels a sensation run down his spine and the dreadful feeling from before returns.

He raises his eyes slowly to the rear-view mirror, a heavy feeling in his stomach and he holds his breath in trepidation.

Behind him in the orchard, the leaves have stopped swaying.

 

\---

 

The sunset from Leonard’s porch is a beautiful palette of reds, oranges and purples and the bourbon in Jim’s glass is locally distilled and he’ll be damned if he doesn’t go home with at least a box of the stuff.

Leonard’s sprawled out in a deckchair with flakey green paint while Jim’s bobbing back-and-forth in a white rocking chair and a comfortable silence between them.

It’s strange cause Jim’s normally the one getting restless, filling empty spaces with words because it’s awkward not to. But with Leonard he doesn’t feel the need to. They just sit next to each other, sipping bourbon enjoying that feeling one gets after a nice dinner on a warm autumn day. Just an hour earlier, Leonard had made them steaks and potato salad with their current drink serving as dessert.

Perhaps, he thinks, it’s the fact that they don’t know each other. There are no expectations between them, no topics you can’t talk about and maybe it’s also a little bit because Jim’s not actively trying to get into Leonard’s pants – although if the opportunity arises itself, he won’t be a fool and say no.

Either way, he’s just had an excellent dinner and a relaxing evening. If this is the famous Southern hospitality, he might never leave again.

 

When Leonard offers to pour him another glass, Jim happily agrees.

“You know, I’ve got a friend who would swear on all he holds dear that bourbon’s actually from Russia.” He remarks as he settles down in the chair again.

Leonard snorts right into his drink. “Blasphemy!” He sputters and after a cough licks some drops of bourbon from his lips.

Jim laughs, happy and smug because that was exactly the reaction he’d be hoping for. It’s a bit like a wronged old Lady if he’s honest but so much sexier.

Leonard watches Jim laugh for a moment before he accuses: “You said that on purpose.”

“Your face!” Jim’s chuckling now. “It’s even better than Scotty’s when Pavel said scotch was from Russia.” But oh, that’d been hilarious too with Scotty slamming his beer down on the bar so fast he’d spilt half of it over his hands and proper indignation on his face.

Leonard rolls his eyes but there’s a small smile on his lips when he takes a sip of his drink. “So you’ve got a Russian friend?”

Jim’s happy to share stories about his friends – most of them embarrassing because it’s not like they can complain – and he goes to bed happier than he’s felt in ages.

 

\---

 

Jim’s not used to old, rural houses anymore.

Lying in a double-bed in the neat guestroom he finds himself unable to sleep. Because it’s like the house is alive. The wood seems to breathe, in-and-out, in-and-out while it creaks and huffs. Outside, a breeze has picked up rustling the leaves of the pecan trees littered around Leonard’s property.

They’re the only noises he hears and it’s miles away from his flat in Miami where it’s an orchestra of traffic and neighbors that lulls him into sleep every night. Still, it’s worlds better than the motel he’d spent the night before with a smelly bed, a constant hum of the ice-machine and a rather enthusiastic couple in the room next door.

Or at least, that’s what he tells himself.

The rustling leaves brings him back to the peach orchard and every time he closes his eyes it’s like he’s there. The leaves beckoning _come here, come to us_ but why? For what?

He takes a deep breath and burrows himself further underneath the thin blanket on the bed. If only he could call Spock, he thinks. His friend would stare him down for his idiocy before providing at least a dozen reasons why wind directions could be in such a way that the leaves would move without Jim actually feeling a breeze. Or how, after hours of driving, Jim’s eyes had gotten tired and it was all a sign of exhaustion. Or perhaps he’d say that Jim should in that case not have consumed the amount of sugar he had because he always _is_ a bit unpredictable on a sugar rush.

Yes, he thinks, Spock would give him a lot of logical reasons for what he saw today. If even he can already think of some himself – and according to Spock, Jim is most of the time quite illogical – than Spock must be able to write a book about it.

There’s a small smile around his lips as he settles down for sleep properly now that he’s not being an idiot anymore. Yet as the hands of sleep are finally pulling him under he feels like he’s being watched. But before the thought can fully register he’s drifted off in an uneventful sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh my gosh, sorry for the wait guys! This took way longer than I’d planned because I got distracted by zombies and angst… Either way, here is part 2 and I do hope you enjoy it!

Leonard might have manners and hospitality running through his veins, but Jim does possess some charm and good-behavior as well – not thanks to his mom, who’d given up when he was about eight years old.

So when he wakes up at seven to sunshine in his face and a quiet house he decides to impress his host with thank-you pancakes for breakfast.

He stretches when he’s out of bed and throws on a washed-out pair of Bermuda’s and a white T-shirt before heading to the bathroom for his morning routine – take a leak, some cold water in his face, a quick brush of teeth and he foregoes his hair for the moment.

He pats down the stairs on naked feet, smile on his face. He’s not that good a cook but he makes a good breakfast – taught himself for the purely selfish reason that it really impresses the girls, as well as some of the guys, he brings home.

The kitchen is perfect, with big windows that allow the morning sun to filter into the room and he gets his favorite playlist running before he scavenges for ingredients.

He hops and dances around the kitchen, finds a mixing bowl and as he cracks the eggs in, he hums along with the oh-so catchy tunes of _shut up and dance_.

At a terrible off-key sing-along from Jim’s side a soft giggle drifts through the air, mixing with the song. For a moment Jim pauses his singing to throw a confused look at his phone. Another giggle and huh, he’s never actually noticed that he has a wrong version of the song in his playlist.

He turns back with a shrug, deciding it can be worse than a little girl giggling through his song. At least that way he can pretend he’s not just hollering to himself as he catches on to _this woman is my destiny_ while whisking his eggs.

 

By the time a soft cough catches his attention he’s standing at the stove, pancakes sizzling in the pan and body swaying slowly and lazily to the tunes of _feeling good_.

He looks over his shoulder with a grin and he’s seen a lot of just-out-of-bed looks in his life but no-one pulls it off quite like Leonard does. Because leaning against the doorway, basked in rays of sun and tuffs of hair sticking in different directions Leonard’s quite a sight to behold. And then Jim hasn’t even dared to actually look at strong arms, naked legs and he just went from _not actively trying to get Leonard in bed_ to _we have to fuck_ real fast.

Well…

“Good morning,” he greets but turns back to his mixing bowl before Leonard can see the small blush he feels creeping up on his cheeks.

“Good morning indeed.” Leonard drawls and Jim’s never thought he could be attracted to the way how someone pronounces their R but here he is anyway.

Leonard pushes himself away from the door and makes his way over to the coffeemaker on Jim’s right. As he’s preparing the machine – in nothing but a black tank and black running shorts – he gives Jim a sideways glance with a smirk on his lips. “A man could get used to this, Darlin’.”

Jim flips the three pancakes with a spatula and glances at Leonard with a grin of his own. “What, pancakes?”

Leonard huffs and he rolls his eyes. “Sure,” he says as he gets the coffee going.

Jim watches silently for a moment as Leonard retrieves cups and plates from one of the overhead shelves.

It’s all very homey, familiar, like they’ve done this a hundred times. It should unnerve him. He hardly knows Leonard – doesn’t even know if he’s got a girlfriend, job, anything really. But he’s heard Hikaru’s stories often enough, about meeting his husband, how it was comfortable and right straight away – and he decides he’s just not going to question it.

“Well, who knows what I’ll whip up tomorrow morning.” He smirks at Leonard and if there’s a promise in his voice of something other than food, well, Leonard doesn’t seem to mind.

Leonard’s about to reply when suddenly upstairs, a door slams.

The sound seems to resonate through the wooden house, echoing loud in the kitchen.

Leonard frowns, glances at the doorway and shakes his head. “Be right back, it’s probably the wind ‘cause I left a window open.”

While Leonard disappears upstairs Jim’s Spotify picks up _Camille Saint-Saens’ Danse Macabre_ and within seconds the kitchen’s filled with life again at the upbeat song about Death filling the air. And as he slips his finished pancakes onto an empty plate and prepares the pan for another batch, he doesn’t notice that outside the long grass stands tall yet still and the leaves hang lifelessly on the trees.

_No wind_

 

\---

 

Jim knows he’s being a curious little shit that should keep his nose out of other people’s business and fix his car instead.

But on his way to where he thinks the garage is, he passes by the living-room and with Leonard cleaning up breakfast in the kitchen he can’t help himself.

It’s very nice, he thinks, with its big, comfortable chairs, bookcases, decorative pillows and curtains.

Definitely not the place decorated by a single man, however, and he feels a pang of disappointment.

Because _of course_ a guy like Leonard – with looks _and_ manners – would be taken. Possibly married, Jim thinks, this isn’t Miami after all.

He’s not sure _why_ he makes his way across the room, to the mantelpiece littered with photographs.

It’s almost like there’s a hand at his back, pushing and urging him forward and damn it, he’s apparently a bigger masochist than he thought.

For why else would he _want_ to see pictures of Leonard with a _stunning_ blonde, her eyes radiant and smile beaming and wearing a baby-blue sundress that looks like it was made for her. Or the picture of Leonard and Blonde holding a young girl between them as she uses their arms as a swing. Or the one where the same little girl is kissing Leonard’s cheek, her eyes closed and Leonard’s hazel ones glimmering with love and pride.

Jim blinks, pauses his train of thoughts about how stupid he is for flirting with a married man.

Because for a moment he can only think about a stormy summer afternoon and how he could’ve sworn Leonard’s eyes are gray.

A feeling of unease crawls down his spine, he reaches for the frame, just to check. It might be the light. The angle.

“I thought you were going to the garage.”

Jim’s hand freezes mid-air, his mind panicking and all he can think is _oh shit_ as he scrambles to turn around. “Leonard, I’m –”

“Let me show you where it is.” Leonard interrupts, his eyes not on Jim but on the pictures behind him. His lips are set in a thin line, a dark look in his eyes and he doesn’t say another word as he turns on his heels, expecting Jim to follow him.

 

\---

 

When they’re in the garage, Leonard waves a hand around. “Use anything you need.”

“Thanks,” Jim nods, grateful yet a tight smile on his lips. This is _not_ the impression he wanted to make. He looks up, catches Leonard’s eyes and his apology dies on his tongue.

He doesn’t quite catch Leonard’s “I’ll bring some drinks later.”

All he knows that he stands frozen in the garage for at least ten minutes, feeling cold.

Gray, he thinks, his eyes are gray.

 

\---

 

Leonard comes back with the promised drinks an hour later.

Jim still feels unsettled, like something _isn’t_ right, but he also feels foolish. People’s eye colors don’t just change. It’s either the light or colored contacts.

When he leans his head up to greet Leonard, the other is almost awkwardly standing in the doorway with two huge glasses of iced tea.

“You should take a break,” Leonard offers softly.

 

They move two wooden crates outside and sit on the driveway, heads up to the sun and sipping their sweet goodness while some birds happily chirp away in the pecan trees.

It’s unlike anything Jim has ever experienced, the rural sounds and the general vibe of their surroundings. It’s quiet compared to the city but it’s not silent. It’s full of life, of birds singing, crickets chirping and grass and leaves rustling peacefully. It’s calming and almost enchanting, how for a moment time seems to stand still as he sits there in the sun, with Leonard at his side.

It’s no surprise that when Jim speaks, his voice is hushed even though there’s not a single soul even close to being within earshot.

“I should apologize.” He mumbles, staring into his drink and watching the ice-cubes dance. “I shouldn’t have been snooping.”

Leonard’s “thanks” sounds like he didn’t actually expect an apology.

“I just wondered and…” Jim pauses, frowns. For what does he say now? He can hardly say he’s normally not this noisy but it almost felt as if he was forced to look.

He swallows.

“And I should’ve asked,” he adds and finally dares to raise his eyes up to Leonard.

Leonard has a wry smile on his face, his hands tight around his glass and he’s staring ahead at the trees but Jim thinks he sees nothing. “I used to be in the Medical Corps.” He says eventually.

Jim gapes. Feels impressed and in awe and slightly jealous because he is stuck being an unaccomplished lifeguard trying to figure out his life and here Leonard is.

The perfect man.

“Impressive.”

“As a profession, I guess.” Leonard shrugs and when he turns to Jim his eyes are sad and disappointed. “But when you have a family it’s hardly ideal.”

Jim stays silent, doesn’t dare ask for more nor does he know what to say, afraid he might make the tension in the air explode.

“She didn’t deal with it very well.” Leonard admits and with a harsh sigh and a darkness in his eyes waves a hand in the air. “And now they’re both gone.”

Leonard doesn’t say divorce. He doesn’t say custody battle.

He doesn’t have to.

It’s there in the little tremor of his hands, in the heartbreak in his eyes and in the loneliness of his hunched shoulders.

“Shit,” Jim mumbles, ineloquently because fuck, what can he say?

“Yea,” Leonard laughs, raw and without humor. “That about sums it up.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come say hi on [Tumblr](http://thevalesofanduin.tumblr.com/) <3


	3. Chapter 3

Dinner also comes with a lighter mood.

After working on the car together for the afternoon, changing topics from books to music to Jim’s wild stories about living in Miami – and Leonard rolling his eyes at them – the sadness of before seems an almost forgotten thought.

Now Leonard is baking potatoes at the stove, beer at his hand and Jim is slumped in one of the kitchen chairs with a beer of his own while country music fills the air.

Jim wanted to laugh when Leonard had put it on. But apparently Leonard tapping his foot to the music, body moving unconsciously as he hums along in deep, rumbling tones every now and then can make even country music seem less like a joke. In fact, Jim might find the sight slightly arousing but he blames that ass and those hips in low slung jeans.

They spend dinner sitting at the table talking about their favorite foods, cooking – or how Leonard can and Jim obviously can’t – and drinks.

Jim talks before he should sometimes, when his mouth is still full and Leonard nearly inhales a potato as he laughs at something Jim’s said.

About halfway through, the teasing starts.

First, it’s Leonard’s toes over the top of Jim’s foot.

It sends a pleasant and excited shiver down Jim’s spine despite the fact Leonard’s feet are cold as ice. He pauses mid-sentence and looks up at Leonard who doesn’t give anything away except a twinkle in his eyes and an indulgent smile on his lips.

Jim doesn’t blush at the realization in this case he is the one being wooed – and he does most definitely not think about an ex-wife and daughter.

But two can play at that game and as it’s the side of Jim’s foot slowly and teasingly sliding against the side of Leonard’s the others feet seem to warm.

By the time their plates are empty Jim’s right foot is hooked around Leonard’s left ankle and they both have stupid grins on their faces.

It’s so good, Jim thinks, to flirt without expectations or pressure.

And with Leonard it’s so easy.

Jim looks up at Leonard, wondering what exactly that means.

Leonard raises an eyebrow. “What?”

Jim chuckles and shrugs. “It’s been ages.”

“What, since you touched someone’s foot?” Leonard asks, shooting Jim an amused look while he brushes the tips of his toes of his right foot against one of Jim’s ankles.

Jim huffs. “Since I was this carefree.”

“Life in Miami not carefree?” Leonard raises an eyebrow and leans his head to the side with amused curiosity.

“Not if you want more.”

“What, money?” Leonard frowns.

Jim shrugs, leans back against his chair and sighs. “No, not money just… in general. From life. I want it to mean something. Like Spock. He’s some sort of virologist, never quite knew what he does but I’ll be damned if it isn’t important. Hikaru is the prime example of true love, Pavel is a fucking genius and Nyota uses her language skills to help refugee families who come here but don’t speak English.” He waves a hand at himself with a wry smile. “And I’m Jim, college dropout and lifeguard.”

For a moment, neither of them speak.

Then, however, Leonard gives Jim a soft smile, an almost encouraging twinkle in his eyes and his voice is low and gentle as he says: “I can’t imagine a guy like you not having any dreams.”

“I have dreams.” Jim shrugs and leans forward while pointing a finger up at the ceiling. “NASA.” The moment the word leaves his mouth he raises nervous eyes to Leonard.

Braces himself.

This is usually the point where people chuckle. Tell him NASA is out of reach. He’s not smart enough.

_You’re just a lifeguard, Jim…_

Leonard, however, just raises an genuinely interested eyebrow and lets out a low whistle. “Impressive.”

The shiver that rakes Jim’s body is from more than just Leonard’s toes drawing circles against his calf.

For his family has no faith in him whatsoever and he knows that even for his friends it’s difficult to see all the things Jim ambitions to be.

But here Leonard is. This stranger with whom he has this intense, intimate connection that both shocks and delights him, but a stranger nonetheless.

Someone that’s not supposed to _know_ Jim but who somehow does. Who looks at Jim and sees more than what he is now.

And if that doesn’t take Jim’s breath away and makes his heart swell with a sense of love and rightness, nothing ever will.

“Any idea what you’d want to do at NASA?” Leonard asks.

Jim smiles, excited twinkle in his eyes because this is a topic he can discuss. Talk about. This is his passion. “I’ve got a friend, he’s an engineer at NASA. Says if I can get a degree in astronautical engineering he’ll take me on his team.”

“Astronautical engineering?” Leonard asks, putting down his beer and looking downright impressed.

“Yea,” Jim nods with a grin, happy and excited and he feels so proud of himself now – and isn’t that a feeling he hasn’t felt in ages, but boy does it feel good. “It’s just, amazing, isn’t it? Engineering and space, two of the best things in the world in one.” And then, because this is Leonard and he feels safe and is supportive, Jim admits something he hasn’t even told Spock: “I took the entrance exam at MIT last year… I’m basically in, I just need the money to pay for the tuition.”

Because of course money is the issue. That’s why he’s lived in that disgusting, small studio in that dratted neighborhood for the past few years. Why he’s taken odd side-jobs here and there – even tried out escorting but _oh wow_ that was something he’ll never do again – and basically hasn’t gone on a holiday in _ages_.

He’s got a good amount saved up already and really, he’ll eat bread and canned beans if he has to because he’ll be damned if he doesn’t go to MIT.

“I can start next year.” He takes a sip of his beer with a happy smile. “Hopefully.”

“MIT? Christ, darlin’… That’s _amazing_.” Leonard’s grin is wide, proud.

Jim laughs.

Happy and relaxed and he might be a lifeguard with a carefree life but he’s never felt as carefree as he does now.

“Come on,” Leonard puts his beer down onto the table and stands up, a small smile around his lips and an almost impish twinkle in his eyes. “Let’s celebrate with a dance.”

Jim raises an eyebrow and despite being excited at the prospect of dancing with Leonard – get that mind out of the gutter, man – he jokes: “What, on country music?”

Leonard makes his way over to the kitchen counter where his phone is plugged into a speaker box. “I’ll pick something nice,” he promises with a chuckle, glancing back at Jim from over his shoulder.

Jim huffs in amusement and stands up with a shake of his head. He takes a few steps away from the table and with the beginnings of a butterfly storm tickling in his stomach he watches as Leonard scrolls through his playlist.

As Leonard scrolls through his playlist, he frowns – in a very cute kind of way – every few songs until he pauses and then smiles and Jim is man enough to admit his heart skips a beat at the sight.

When Leonard finally turns on the song, Jim expects a lot of different songs. Most of them a tad bit upbeat, a tad bit crazy.

But when he hears the first tones of the piano he freezes and he can only stare at Leonard as the other turns away from his phone and slowly makes his way over to Jim.

A bit insecure and a bit excited.

“This okay?” Leonard asks when he stands in front of Jim and his voice is soft and gentle, hesitant.

Jim swallows, nods and breathes “yea,” just as Leonard slips a hand around his waist, the other grasping Jim’s hand and the rich, slightly husky voice of Elvis starts with _wise men say only fools rush in_.

It is, Jim finds himself thinking, a bit _much_.

The song.

The dance.

The _intimacy_ of the whole situation.

Normally he’d be running for the hills because somehow, this is not just for fun. This feels serious. And Jim doesn’t really _do_ serious.

Until now, apparently.

Because there is no running.

Instead, he slips his fingers in-between Leonard’s, links his other arm around Leonard’s shoulder and leans slightly into the other.

He lets Leonard guide him although they’re more swaying than dancing.

Dancing in Leonard’s kitchen with the dirty dishes on the table and the crickets chirping their song outside and the bright light above them turned on and Jim’d be laughing if he wasn’t so completely, utterly overwhelmed.

By the time they’re halfway through the song, they’ve gravitated towards each other and as Leonard hums along with _take my whole life too_ he leans the side of his head against Jim’s.

Jim takes a deep breath and as he lets his eyes slip closed allows a smiles to come to his lips. It’s absolutely surreal but it’s the happiest he’s ever felt with someone. And it’s true that he’s never believed in soulmates, but here in Leonard’s kitchen with his heart big and happy and warm, Leonard’s hand in his and slowly swaying to _can’t help falling in love_ Jim just might believe now.

What other explanation is there for the draw between them? The connection?

No-one has ever swept Jim off of his feet this quickly in such an all-consuming way.

With slow-dancing in the kitchen, no less.

“Is this your Southern charm?” He asks and his voice is soft and husky at the same time, words teasing despite the intimacy of the moment.

Leonard pulls back a bit so he can look Jim in the eyes, a fire in grey eyes and a smirk on his lips. “Is it working?” He asks, leaning his head to the side and letting his fingers draw a circle against Jim’s lower back.

“Yea,” Jim grins and slides his fingers up the nape of Leonard’s neck until he can card them through short, brown hair. “Definitely.”

“Good,” Leonard smiles, visibly pleased with himself and then he drops his voice to a low murmur as he adds: “You’re something special, Jim.”

Jim raises an eyebrow at Leonard, says “shush, I’m not.” with a chuckle because Southern charm or not that’s taking it a bit too far.

“Oh but you are,” Leonard challenges, his voice surprisingly soft, a mere tender whisper laced with unexpected affection. Then he lets go of Jim’s hand, caresses his fingers over Jim’s cheek instead until it’s cupped in the palm of his hand. “You are,” he breathes before leaning in and kissing Jim.

Sweet, tender, slow, Leonard’s lips are slightly chapped and slightly cold against Jim’s, his hand soft against Jim’s cheek and his other hand is steady yet teasing as it pulls, urging Jim closer to him.

And Jim, _oh_ Jim goes willingly.

Lets himself be drawn close to Leonard’s body and his fingers tighten slightly in Leonard’s hair and he slips his other arm down to Leonard’s waist. His fingers a perfect fit around the curve of Leonard’s body and his eyes close on their own accord as he almost drowns in the kiss.

The heat curling in his gut, the way Leonard’s breath hitches every now and then and how Jim’s knees are slightly weak. How just a few days ago he didn’t even know Leonard yet the kiss feels like coming home.

Neither man notices when the song ends, moving on to the next.

Instead they’re lost in their kiss, in their lips sliding and fingers stroking and it’s both soft and yearning but moreover it feels like it could consume them.

Leonard strokes the flesh of his thumb down Jim’s cheek as the kiss eases, slows down and as Johnny Cash promises _I will make you hurt_ there is a crash from the living-room.

A shattering sound.

That of glass breaking on wood and it echoes through the house.

It makes Jim whip his head to the direction of the living-room and Leonard steps back, hands falling to his sides and a dark frown on his face.

In the background, the music keeps going, the dishes are still on the table and they’re still standing close.

But the atmosphere is different.

It’s almost as if there is a heaviness in the air, a coldness creeping through the room and settling over Jim’s body like a blanket and a shiver wrecks through his body.

Leonard’s eyes are on him in an instant, a step forward and he reaches out a hand to Jim’s upper-arm as he inquires: “You okay?”

“Yea,” Jim nods but he still feels off. Still feels cold and there is a prickle at the back of his neck like someone is watching him. He glances around slowly with a frown. “Yea, I’m fine.” He turns back to Leonard and gives the other a small smile.

Whoever would’ve thought that living in the city would have made him so unused to old houses, he thinks. Because really, he’s just being a scaredy-cat now.

But as Leonard says “I’ll go check what fell over,” and Jim trails behind him to the living-room he thinks perhaps it’s something different.

Because here with Leonard, just the two of them in the old house that Leonard obviously used to live in with his ex-wife and daughter, perhaps it’s a part of him that fears getting caught.

As if they’re doing something wrong.

As if he _shouldn’t_ like Leonard as much as he does.

But fact remains he does like Leonard, _a lot_ and it’s obvious he’s not together with his ex-wife anymore so really, why should Jim be bothered?

He leans against the doorway of the living-room as Leonard crouches down to pick up the fallen picture. He turns it around in his hands and _of course_ it’s the photography of Leonard and his ex-wife and daughter.

_Of course_

You paranoid idiot, Jim tells himself at the uneasy feeling that’s settled in his stomach and shakes his head with a huff.

Speaking of paranoia, he thinks and raises his eyes to the mantelpiece to check the picture of Leonard with his daughter – the one where his eyes look hazel instead of grey.

But when his eyes land on the row of pictures his heart skips an unpleasant beat, his breath seems to still in his throat and a coldness creeps through his whole body.

It’s gone.

The picture is gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come say hi on [Tumblr](http://thevalesofanduin.tumblr.com/) <3


	4. Chapter 4

“Leonard?” Jim’s voice is soft, hesitant and he feels raw. Exposed.

The prickle at the back of his neck is back like eyes burning holes into his skin.

It’s unnerving, the way the house makes him feel on edge while one look at Leonard seems to calm him and make him feel safe.

“Yea?” Leonard stands up with the broken photo frame in hand and looks disapprovingly at the mess on the ground.

Jim’s eyes fall onto the mantelpiece again and he can’t keep the wariness out of his voice as he asks: “Wasn’t there a photo of you and your daughter?”

Leonard looks up at Jim and then turns to the mantel piece, taking in the pictures and if there is heartbreak in his eyes as his eyes fall on some of them, Jim doesn’t say. In the end he waves a hand to the right corner. “That one?”

Jim frowns because no, that’s not the one.

It’s cute, a photograph of Leonard and his little girl sleeping on the couch, but it’s most definitely not the picture Jim wants to check.

To confirm he just saw something wrong in a flash because the implications if he saw it right are something he doesn’t even want to begin to think about.

So he answers “yea,” and turns to Leonard with a smile that’s a bit wobbly yet genuine. “It’s cute. She’s very pretty.”

Jim’s not sure if complimenting the girl is the best thing to do, but he can hardly say “no, it’s not, and I think I might have gone insane because your eye color seems to have changed”.

Leonard apparently also isn’t sure if the compliment was what he wanted to hear. For the smile that graces his lips is sad yet affectionate and his eyes look fond yet heartbroken. “Yes, that she was,” he mumbles.

 

\---

 

In the end, they clean up the living-room floor and the kitchen and decide to call it a night.

Leonard has withdrawn a bit and Jim feels terribly on edge and the night might’ve started with promise in the air but there’s hardly any of that left now.

So he lies in bed and thinks - the window closed for he might enjoy the gentle breeze, the rustling of the leaves as they dance on the wind does absolutely nothing to ease the general feeling of discomfort that’s set him on edge.

He thinks about Leonard and the pull between them, the easy comfort, the fun flirting and then after that he thinks about fixing the car. He thinks about calling Spock, maybe dropping a message to his mom about his delay.

And after _that_ he thinks of sheep. Counts them.

One, two, three

Because anything is better than laying there and listen to the house. The creaking and huffing from last night resonates through the wood again.

Echoes through the house.

A creak of the stairs, a soft groan of the door, leaves rustling outside audible despite the closed window.

Four, five, six

_Tap, tap, tap_

The hum of the water heater as it jumps on, the rapping of little paws against the roof as _something_ skids across it, the windows huffing and groaning in their frames as wood and glass reconnect.

The whole house breathing in and breathing out seemingly on the same rhythm as Jim’s own breaths which are shallower than he’d like.

Seven, eight -

_Tap, tap, tap_

His mind draws to an instant halt.

He blinks up at the ceiling as realization seeps through the cracks of his mind.

_That_ , he thinks, _is not a sound a house makes_.

If he’s honest none of these sounds are like any house he’s ever heard but apparently he is more of a wimp than he ever thought himself to be so, there’s that.

But _that sound_ …

_Tap, tap, tap_

He strains his ears, lays stock still in bed with his breath held and it’s as if he hears every little noise, _feels_ a soft breeze that’s not even there and if he thought the house was alive before now that he actually focusses on it, it’s _terrifying_.

_Tap, tap, tap_

It’s almost like the sound moves, changes position and cold dread floods Jim’s entire body as he realizes it’s not necessarily a tapping noise he hears.

In fact, it sounds like naked feet against the hardwood floor, a soft pat-pat-pat up and down the hallway.

_Tap, tap, tap_

_Pat, pat, pat_

Up-and-down, up-and-down

_What the fuck_

He swallows and it feels like gravel down his throat, his mouth dry and his breathing a bit unsteady.

_Tap, tap, tap_

_Pat, pat, pat_

The sound seems to gravitate towards him now, from the back of the hallway where he knows Leonard’s room is to his own.

“Hello?”

His voice is soft, hesitant, wavering with fear at the edges.

He doesn’t mean to speak, feels like a right fool the moment the word leaves his mouth and his hands clench around the sheet, pulling it up just a tad bit higher as if covering himself with the white, thin fabric will hide him from the view of whatever is on the other side of the door.

_This is how people get killed, Jim_ , he tells himself while in the back, his mind is asking him _by what?!_

The beginnings of panic tickles at his senses, freezing him on the bed, his skin almost prickling against the blanket.

His eyes are on the door even though he doesn’t _want_ to look but he can’t look away and every moonlit shadow makes his heart jump and his hands clench tighter around the sheet.

He waits, cold dread in his veins.

He waits and waits and waits.

But he doesn’t receive a reply.

No whispered words, no door creaking open.

No more pat-pat-pat against the wooden floor.

Nothing

Just the sounds of the house around him, the leaves outside and his own breathing – loud and harsh.

Nothing

He lets out a shuddering breath and scolds himself softly. “Idiot,”

He falls asleep much, _much_ later, the blanket drawn over his head and knees drawn up to his chest slightly more than usual.

 

\---

 

When he wakes the next morning, the sun filters into his room through the gaps in the curtains, a pleasant heat hanging in the room and he can hear rummaging in the kitchen downstairs.

For a moment Jim lies on his back in bed, looking at the ceiling.

It’s like it’s a completely different place from last night and he frowns to himself.

What is it with this house?

But then again, when he’d moved into his flat in Miami he’d also needed some days to get used to all of the sounds around him. It’s probably only natural, he thinks, to feel out of place in new surroundings. Like your survival instincts kicking in.

This is probably the same. A new place he doesn’t know yet, his senses on high alert…

Or _maybe_ you’re just being an idiot and Leonard actually has a dog, Jim then thinks.

Because _of course_ that would be the case, right? It would only be logical and it would definitely explain what happened last night.

Yes, he thinks with a happy nod, that _must_ be it.

He stifles a yawn at the same time his phone chimes the familiar tone of an incoming message.

Jim spends the next ten minutes texting with Spock and also drops his mother a brief call to let her know about his delay before getting dressed.

When he finally saunters into the kitchen he finds Leonard at the stove.

No music on but the sun is streaming through the window again and the aroma of freshly brewed coffee hangs heavy in the air.

With a smirk, he appreciates taut muscles and slightly tanned skin for a moment.

The muscles of Leonard’s back flex and from his angle Jim can see the grin spread on Leonard’s lips and damn it, Jim _really_ wants to know what it’s like to wake up next to this man.

He walks over to Leonard, leaning his hip against the kitchen counter and facing the other with a grin of his own. “Now I know what you felt like yesterday.”

Leonard hums. “It’s a good feeling, isn’t it?” he asks with a teasing grin and a knowing glance thrown at Jim. “So, how do you like your eggs?”

Jim raises an eyebrow. “I can chose?”

“As a thank-you for last night.” Leonard jokes and then he smiles at Jim, soft and slightly hesitant around the edges. “I had a great time, Jim.”

Jim’s heart skips a beat at the memory of the two of them dancing in the kitchen, of Leonard’s lips against his own and his sigh is slightly resigned but no less teasing. “Too bad we got interrupted,”

“Well,” Leonard reaches out an arm, winds it around Jim’s waist and pulls him closer with a smirk. “I’m sure we’ll find some time to rectify that.”

“Looking forward to it,” Jim grins and if he leans into Leonard’s touch, gravitating towards him as if he’s pulled, well, then he hides it with a quick, teasing kiss against the corner of the other’s mouth.

Leonard smiles, wide and full of promise and he squeezes his hand where it rests against Jim’s side before he says: “So, eggs.”

Jim asks for his sunny-side-up, because it fits his mood and because he’s a little shit.

Leonard seems unfazed, however, and a few minutes later they’re sitting at the table ready for breakfast and a plate in the middle with eggs baked to perfection.

Jim won’t complain and happily eats his eggs, drinks his coffee and after a while decides that now is perhaps a good time to ask Leonard if he has a pet.

Or well, he doesn’t really want to ask because it might make him look like a downright idiot – which he _is_ , but still – but he feels like he _needs_ to know.

Needs to confirm.

So he’s slightly hesitant when he asks: “Ah, by the way, I was wondering… Do you have any pets?”

Leonard frowns around his mouthful and shakes his head. “Pets? No. Why?”

Jim frowns at the answer.

No pets?

He thinks back to the sound of little feet tapping against the wooden floor – _pat, pat, pat_

A chill rolls down his spine and an awkward, hesitant laugh falls from his lips. “Ah, no reason,” he waves a hand at Leonard while telling himself that it must’ve been the house, in that case.

If he’d actually heard anything at all.

Because for all he knows he was just imagining things.

Right?

Leonard leans his head to the side a bit, a small frown on his face. “Hearing noises at night?” he asks, not unkind and not judgmental. “You wouldn’t be the first,” he adds with a shrug, leaning back in his chair, “it’s an old house. Used to scare the shit out of Joss.”

Jim doesn’t ask who Joss is, but his mind immediately flashes to a blonde woman smiling at Leonard’s side and yea, he thinks he _knows_ exactly who Joss is.

It’s sort of a relief, though, to know that Leonard’s ex-wife had also felt uneasy in the house.

Makes him feel less like an idiot, somehow.

“Well, it _does_ make a lot of noises, I can tell you that,” Jim says.

Leonard laughs, offering: “So we should take your mind off of things for a bit.”

Jim raises an eyebrow, smirk on his lips and strange noises in the night forgotten because _oh_ , this sounds promising. “You have an idea?”

Leonard grins, wide and happy and impishly and asks: “Want to go swimming?”

Jim, naturally, doesn’t say no.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come say hi on [Tumblr](http://thevalesofanduin.tumblr.com/) <3


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I noticed how utterly, terribly behind my AO3 is when it comes to stories... I need to publish the things I have over at Tumblr here (well, except for the drabbles I guess) so expect some new fics during this week or the weekend!

There’s a stretch of wood behind Leonard’s house that provides a lovely shade on the warm day. And apparently, there’s also a small lake somewhere in the middle of it which is where Leonard is leading them.

That, or Leonard’s going to kill him and bury him in a shallow grave, never to be found again.

Jim supposes, though, that if Leonard was a serial killer he probably would’ve noticed before. Besides, he’s seen enough crime shows to sort of confidently say _this_ is not typical serial-killer behavior. He doubts they’d be sharing childhood memories of growing up in a rural area if that was the case.

So they walk to the lake, sandy gravel crunching under their feet, sun filtering through the roof of leaves and the smell of dry grass hanging in the air.

They brought towels, a few beers and Jim’s actually pretty excited at the idea of telling Leonard he didn’t pack any swim shorts when he’d left Miami. But Jim’s not shy, knows what he looks like so skinny-dipping it will be.

There’s not a lot of nicer feelings than swimming naked, after all, and to hopefully convince Leonard to do that with him… yes, Jim is pretty excited.

His excitement must’ve shown on his face because Leonard pauses his reminiscing of catching frogs in the creek in Spring to raise an eyebrow at Jim. “Yes?”

“Nothing,” Jim replies with a smirk and a little spring in his step. “Just that, it’s going to be an exciting swim.”

Leonard looks positively amused, small smile tugging at his lips and a twinkle in his eyes. “Because?”

Jim flicks his tongue over his upper-lip quickly – doesn’t miss how Leonard’s eyes follow the movement – and winks. “You’ll find out soon enough.”

 

It only takes them another ten minutes before they get to the small lake, completely surrounded by trees and with the sun beaming down onto the water.

For a moment, they stand at the edge of the water in silence. It’s peaceful, just like yesterday sitting on Leonard’s driveway. With a barely-there breeze teasing the leaves of the trees, the water seeming to breathe and wrinkle as it is disturbed by a falling leaf, a soft and serene sound that is almost drowned by the birds chirping, the insects zooming and other, bigger animals disturbing the bushes just a bit further away from the clearing.

“It’s not much,” Leonard starts.

But Jim waves the words away with a move of his hand. “It’s perfect.”

Leonard gives Jim an amused look. “Compared to Miami? It’s not exactly a beach.”

Jim almost rolls his eyes. “You might not have noticed but I’m hardly happy in Miami. I’ll take this over a beach with perfect, plastic bodies _any_ day.”

Leonard raises an eyebrow and Jim swears the smirk on his lips is downright vulgar. “You saying I ain’t got a perfect body?” Leonard asks, his voice molasses sweet and dripping Southern accent.

Jim swallows, feels a heat curl in his gut that is the beginning of arousal and _yes_ , this is going to be perfect.

He grins at Leonard and as he lets his eyes drift down the other’s body murmurs: “well, can’t judge what I haven’t seen.”

Leonard laughs and it’s rich and deep and then his backpack is on the ground, his hands at the hem of his shirt and his eyes are piercing as they rest on Jim. “Well I wasn’t gonna swim with my clothes on anyway.”

When Leonard pulls off his shirt, tousling his hair just slightly and revealing sun-kissed skin Jim has to admit he’s distracted for a moment.

“Really now?” he mumbles but it’s more an after-thought while his eyes stray on Leonard’s skin.

It’s not the most perfect body he’s ever seen, but then the tight, trained abs and ridiculously glistering tanned skin of the twenty-something’s in Miami have _nothing_ on Leonard. Because that is perfection according to the media and Leonard is a whole different kind of perfect.

Leonard is _real_ and oh dear Lord, with the uneven tan, the hair on his chest – and the hair leading _down there_ – and even with the small swell of his tummy he’s the sexiest man Jim’s ever seen.

And the smirk on Leonard’s lips indicates that he _knows_ it.

“In fact,” Leonard drawls, hands falling down to the top of his pants, “I was thinking we might do this without wearing anything at all,”

Jim’s eyes snap up to Leonard’s in an instant and the excitement curling in his gut is matched in the other’s gray eyes. He smirks and lets his eyes fall down to where Leonard’s hands rest just at the edge of his pants before glancing up at the other again.

“Well, I won’t complain,” he murmurs and this is already better than he expected but he’s starting to wonder if they’ll even _get_ to swimming. Because with Leonard’s teasing, his husked words and his slow, deliberate movements the tension is almost palpable and Jim’s not certain if he’ll be able to _not_ touch Leonard long enough to actually get into the water.

Leonard chuckles as he takes a small step forward, into Jim’s personal space but not touching him. He cocks his head to the side and there’s heat and teasing and excitement in his eyes as he says: “of course not,” he reaches out a hand to stroke a knuckle down Jim’s cheek his voice is low and dangerous as he asks: “you’ve been wanting this since the moment we met, haven’t you?”

Jim shudders at the touch, momentarily thinks back to their meeting – the car, the orchard, those gray eyes – before he murmurs: “close enough.”

Because he’s not going to lie, he _has_ wanted it and now… well, now that he _has_ it, Leonard right at his fingertips he’s not going to wait anymore.

He couldn’t anyway even if he tried, he thinks as he reaches out a hand to slide his fingers in Leonard’s hair. He tugs the other’s head closer as he leans in himself and Leonard’s amused murmur of “impatient,” is swallowed by Jim’s lips.

Where their kiss in the kitchen had been filled with exploration and hints of tenderness this one is almost the exact opposite.

It’s their bodies pressing close together, hands roaming, tugging and stroking and teasing. It’s their lips and tongues against each other, messy and uncoordinated, pushing and pulling back, teeth scraping and tongues soothing first and teasing after.

Jim’s breathy gasps, Leonard’s low groans.

Excitement’s thrumming through Jim’s body and it flares for the moment that Leonard’s fingers stroke the curve of his ass and it’s so good but it’s not nearly enough.

“Leonard,” Jim moans, breaks the kiss to suck at Leonard’s neck and bucks his hips.

“Needy,” Leonard gasps, his hand settling against the small of Jim’s back and pulling him closer, thrusting his own hips forward.

Jim sucks at Leonard’s neck, one of his hands slipping into the back of his shorts. “Maybe a little,” he grins and leans his head back a bit so he can look Leonard in the eyes. He slides his fingers to the front of Leonard’s shorts, fingering the button. “I figured we waited long enough,”

“So you’re a bit desperate, hm?” Leonard hums and with a few steps has backed Jim up against a tree.

Jim goes easily, stomach jumping in anticipation and a surprised yet excited gasp falling from his lips. He’s used to being in control, taking charge of his sexual encounters with so much ease but here with Leonard somehow it’s so much easier to follow. To look into those gray eyes burning with desire and relinquish his body to those strong, confident hands.

So Jim does.

Shudders when Leonard drags the pad of his thumb over his lower-lip.

Lets his head fall back against the tree with a gasp when Leonard sucks his earlobe.

Pushes his hips back with burning need as Leonard grinds their crotches together.

“So you want to skip the foreplay altogether, hm?” Leonard breathes into Jim’s ear. “I’ll fuck you hard and quick right here against this tree because we’ve both been wanting this,” he continues and thrusts his hips forward again, their hard cocks rubbing through their clothes.

Jim hooks one of his hands around the back of Leonard’s neck, the other settling on his ass as he keeps the other close, feels the other’s heat and it sets his senses on fire. “I want to do so much more with you than just that,” he says before leaning in and giving Leonard an open-mouthed, heated kiss.

Then, when they’re caught in a desperate, needy kiss Jim lets his hands fall down to Leonard’s shorts, unbuttoning them and not even pretending to be patient when he lowers the zipper – and dear _Lord_ Leonard’s not wearing underwear.

“I’ll draw it out next time, Darlin’,” Leonard promises as he pulls away from the kiss.

Then, his hands are tugging at Jim’s shirt and it’s as if the promise of a next time urges them on more, makes them want it more.

There’s nothing slow and gentle about it, either.

No lingering touches and exploring fingers.

No soft kisses and teasing nips.

It’s hungry lips and hurried hands and Jim only gets a moment to appreciate the glory that is Leonard’s naked body – his supple skin, his muscles and tan, the way how his hard cock feels when Jim curls his fingers around it. “Definitely the perfect body,” he murmurs with a smirk yet before he really knows it Leonard reaches out.

Then, Jim's shirt is pulled off, his pants unbuttoned and being pushed down his legs and he almost breathes a sigh of relief because yes, _finally_!

Finally he's naked in front of Leonard.

Leonard, whose eyes follow the curves of Jim's body with appreciation and hunger. Whose hands are firm and strong and demanding as they drag themselves down Jim's body, leaving trails of fire on Jim's skin in their wake.

In reply, Jim slides a hand down Leonard's back, nails scraping slightly and when he does, Leonard roughly grinds his hips into Jim's with a growl.

"Like it a bit rough?" Jim asks and it's meant to be teasing but it comes out as a breathy moan instead.

Leonard grins and takes a small step back, picking up his pants and retrieving a small tube of lube from one of the pockets. "How about I show you,"

And _he does_.

Preparing Jim with an almost practiced efficiency with clever fingers that seem to know _exactly_ where to touch and stroke. He’s not rough, but isn’t drawing it out either but it doesn’t matter, Jim’s still a shuddering mess under those hands by the time Leonard deems him prepared enough.

Then he slides in and Jim’s back is close to being uncomfortable against the tree trunk but Leonard’s hips snap forward fast and deep and Jim hardly cares about anything other than the pleasure curling in his gut.

The clearing is filled with the sound of deep groans, breathy gasps and skin hitting skin as Leonard fucks Jim.

It’s Leonard’s forehead against Jim’s neck, his fingers digging into Jim’s hips and Jim’s hands are at Leonard’s back pulling him closer, closer, _harder_.

It’s both not enough and too much all at once and it’s over before either of them really wants it to end.

Jim’s shuddering all over, head thumping back against the tree and his eyes are wide and a loud moan falls from his lips as he comes.

Leonard meanwhile growls his release into Jim’s neck with hands shaking against Jim’s hips.

It’s bliss and the best Jim’s felt in ages and when they’ve both come down from their high and Leonard slips out of Jim, Jim leans in to kiss Leonard – tenderly, now that the heat of the moment has passed.

And as they stand there, panting and kissing softly, peace falls over the clearing again, the noises of nature returning as a soft breeze seems to stroke over their overheated bodies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come say hi on [Tumblr](http://thevalesofanduin.tumblr.com/) <3


	6. Chapter 6

There’s a soft wind rustling through the leaves as Jim and Leonard make their way back to the house.

They’ve spent a good few hours at the lake. Swimming in the cool water with the sun beaming down, stretched out on the blanket with lingering fingers and teasing kisses or sitting cross-legged on the grass eating their sandwiches and drinking a lukewarm beer while their knees brush.

Now, the temperature is dropping more and more the closer to the house they get. It’s not _cold_ per se, but compared to the almost too warm autumn heat that seemed to have surrounded the lake it’s a noticeable change for sure. Must have been the trees keeping the heat stuck under their roof, Jim thinks and already he wants to go back there.

It had been peaceful, calm and the air had felt lighter than at the house.

Maybe they can go back tomorrow, he thinks, although he should really get some work done on the car. He has somewhere to be in just under a week, after all.

He glances to his left, at Leonard and feels his heart constrict for a moment. It’s crazy for sure, but he’s fallen hard and fast for the other and no matter how much the house creeps him out, he _knows_ he’s going to miss it here. He already doesn’t want to leave.

“What?” Leonard asks with an amused smile, raising an eyebrow at Jim once he catches the other looking at him.

“Just thinking,” Jim shrugs, “I really like this place. So nice and quiet, a whole different world, you know?”

Leonard laughs, turns his eyes to the house and nods. “Yea, I know.” He smiles almost wistfully before turning playful eyes to Jim. “You’re welcome to come back.”

Jim grins in reply as they step up the porch and back into the kitchen. “Well, you _are_ on my way back to Florida.”

“Just don’t get stuck here,” Leonard says as he puts the bag down onto the dining room table. He turns to Jim and gives him a pointed look. “Promising guy like yourself shouldn’t be in backwater Georgia. It gets pretty lonely out here.”

Jim gives Leonard a smile tinged with compassion. “Good thing I stopped by then, right?”

“Yea,” Leonard smiles and it’s soft and grateful and for a moment it takes Jim’s breath away. “Say, why don’t you jump in the shower while I put this stuff away,” Leonard says, giving an offhanded wave at the bag.

Jim grins and raises a teasing eyebrow. “What, you’re not joining?”

“Oh, don’t worry darlin’,” Leonard smirks. “I will.”

With that promise, Jim leaves Leonard rummaging in the kitchen and makes his way upstairs, pleased as punch.

Today, he thinks, is a good day.

A soft giggle echoes through the air.

Jim pauses with a small frown, halfway up the stairs.

Another giggle, vibrant and joyful and filled with the kind of mirth only a child can feel.

His mind flashes back to making pancakes in the morning, the sound of a little girl giggling. To lying in bed, sheets pulled up to his chest while in the hallway he can hear _tap-tap-tap, pat-pat-pat._

Another giggle and Leonard’s voice seems to echo through his mind. _It’s an old house, used to scare the shit out of Joss_

Bu this is not the _house_.

This is not some wrongly downloaded song.

It’s light outside, the sun is still out and he can hear Leonard rummaging in the kitchen. This is not his imagination.

He takes a deep breath, wills it down his spine all the way to his toes which seem to be rooted to the stairs. _Idiot_ , he berates himself, _you believe in ghosts now?_ _You’re gonna go up there and see for yourself there’s no-one and you’re just being a scaredy-cat in an old house._

“Right,” Jim sighs softly, nods to himself and forces himself up the stairs again.

Slowly, _softly_ with his feet hovering over each step before he gently puts them down and please, _please_ don’t let the wood creak.

It doesn’t, _thank God for small miracles_ , and when he gets to the top he holds his breath. He steps onto the landing and moves to turn the corner, his hands clammy and shaky and back straight, muscles taut, _slow, slow, slow_.

Time seems to freeze for the moment the hall comes into sight, his heart beats loudly in his chest and every single of his senses seems to be on edge. He turns and turns and turns, it seems, and then –

Nothing.

Nothing but an empty hallway.

Sunbeams fall through the window at the end of the hallway, illuminating the hardwood floor, making the space look bright. And empty.

_See_ , Jim tells himself, _scaredy-cat_.

 

\---

 

The shower seems to wash away the fear clinging to Jim’s mind.

The warm water cascading down his back, Leonard’s hands trailing over his arms, his sides as they kiss and kiss and kiss.

No more giggles, no more signs of any sort of ghosts and he finds himself relaxing, his imagination seeming to calm down. It’s not the first time his imagination takes a run with him, he had an imaginary friend for _ages_ when he was younger after all. This time it’s just taken a rather obscure form. Must be the house, the loneliness of the place, that’s getting to him.

It’s all forgotten relatively quickly though, as Jim and Leonard explore their newfound intimacy.

It’s teasing touches, lingering fingers and sweet kisses all throughout the evening and late that evening they fall asleep, together, in Leonard’s bed.

And for the first time in what seems like forever, Jim dreams.

At first, he wonders if he’s dreaming at all for the hallway of Leonard’s hall looks the same as that day. He’s standing at the top of the stairs, looking down the hall where at the end, the window is opened. The sun shines bright outside, casts its rays inside through the lace curtains that seem to sway gently on the wind.

A nice autumn day, he thinks, and turns to go down the stairs. But at the bottom of the stairs a fire burns, creeps up and up and up and it is followed by a thick, dark smoke.

He stumbles back with wide eyes, a gasp passing his lips and fear in his veins as he turns and starts running down the hallway.

There’s a fire, he needs to get away, to the window so he can jump outside!

But he runs and runs and runs and the fire and smoke come closer, catching up faster than his feet carry him away and no matter how much he runs he doesn’t seem to reach the window.

He runs faster, but the window seems to move away. The sun still beaming outside, the curtains still swaying gently as behind Jim the smoke rolls closer and closer and closer.

It’s not long before it engulfs him, it’s tendrils at Jim’s feet, his hands, sneaking around his throat like a vice and he feels like he’s choking.

He falls down on his knees, dry, painful rasps being torn from his throat as he tries to breathe. But all that fills his lungs is smoke.

Dark and consuming smoke.

He wakes up with a gasp, his throat feeling raw and the taste of heavy, thick smoke on his tongue and the smell of burned wood in his nostrils.

He sits up straight in bed, hands clenched around the sheets, sweat on his brow and he feels as if he’s on fire, as if the smoke itself is still lingering in him.

He heaves raspy, quick breaths that don’t seem to give him enough oxygen and tears sting in his eyes.

“Jim?”

Leonard’s voice is sleepy, his hand cold as it settles against Jim’s arm but there’s worry in his eyes.

“Fire,” Jim rasps, still trying to get himself back to reality. He’s never felt so shaken after a nightmare - and they have never felt this _real_. “There was a fire.”

A deep, somewhat dark frown furrows Leonard’s brow. “A fire?”

“It’s like I still feel it... “ Jim mumbles, turns to look at Leonard with wide, shocked eyes and a shiver raking his body. “It’s like I was _there.”_

“It’s fine, Jim,” Leonard says, cupping Jim’s cheeks in the palms of his hands and kissing the side of his head. “It was probably just a bad episode of sleep paralysis. It is absolutely terrifying if you’ve never experienced it before. It’s fine, trust me.”

Jim nods, shakily, and lets Leonard envelop him into a hug.

His throat still feeling raw.

 

\---

 

He’s been working on the car all morning and part of the afternoon and he’s close to being done but he’s missing a part.

“There’s a garage in town,” Leonard says and offers: “you wanna borrow my truck and see if they have the part? The guy that runs it, he’s a bit of a hoarder. Might actually have what you need to finish up on the car.”

Turns out, Leonard was right.

An hour later, Jim’s in town _with_ the necessary part acquired and now that he’s away from the house a bit, he feels a little more relaxed.

The nightmare from last night shook him up quite a bit and until now he hadn’t realized that perhaps the seclusion of Leonard’s home was getting to him. Nothing like a few nights surrounded by absolutely nothing to make a city boy feel like he’s going mad, apparently.

On the way back, he passes by a place called the Darnell Diner and decides that he could do with a coffee. He pulls up at the front - next to the two other trucks there - and saunters in.

It’s nice enough inside with lots of light streaming in through the windows, soft music playing and the general atmosphere relaxed and easygoing. The place is almost empty, save for a booth in the middle where a man and woman are having drinks.

The moment Jim walks in their conversation stops and the man raises his eyes to regard Jim with a frown.

The air seems to sizzle, tense, and for a moment Jim can’t help but feel like an intruder.

Jim gives a polite nod before making his way over to the bar, sitting down with his back to the couple. He thinks he can still feel the man’s eyes on his back and wonders what kind of conversation he just interrupted.

Not a good one, probably.

“Hi sweetie, can I get you anything?”

Jim startles, a small thrill running through his body. He looks up slowly and when he sees a waitress standing in front of him, he smiles. Young, cheerful round cheeks and a hairdo that’d make many Pinterest user jealous.

He feels more at ease straight away.

“Just a coffee, please,” he says.

“You’re not from around here, are you?” the waitress asks with friendly curiosity.

Jim chuckles. “Just passing through, decided to stay for a few days,” he says with a shrug - no need to tell them he’s staying at Leonard’s place. Small town like this, people will talk and he’s not quite certain what they would say.

The waitress hums conversationally and retrieves a cup, putting it down in front of Jim. When she turns to retrieve the coffee pot Jim lets his eyes drift around the diner.

The walls are relatively empty, a few retro posters here and there but then he catches sight of a photograph hanging on the wall. It looks a suspicious lot like one of those remembrance photos in a big frame. There’s a woman in the photograph, late twenties with blonde hair and a wide smile, eyes twinkling.

Jim pauses and blinks.

_He knows that face_

“Beautiful woman, wasn’t she?” the waitress asks as she returns, pouring piping hot coffee into Jim’s cup.

“Janice,” the woman at the table calls out, tone warning.

At the counter, the waitress - Janice, apparently - huffs. “It’s true, isn’t it?”

The man now also turns to look at Janice, shaking his head. “You shouldn’t speak of what you don’t know about, girl.”

“Oh I _know_ ,” Janice raises an eyebrow at the couple at the table. “The whole town _knows_. It’s not a secret what happened.”

The man sighs, shakes his head and mutters: “What happened was…” his eyes fall on Jim momentarily before snapping back to Janice, “unfortunate.”

“Especially for Len,” the woman at the table sighs. “And their little girl.”

Jim’s sitting at the bar, keeping quiet and pretends he’s not listening to the conversation. But it’s not like he _can’t hear_ and at the woman’s words his mind flashes to a photograph. Leonard, a blonde woman and their daughter.

_He knows that face_

He pales, because _shit_.

He _does_ know that face, for she’s the woman in the pictures on Leonard’s mantelpiece.

The ex-wife.

A sense of dread stirs in Jim’s gut.

Even more so when the man at the table shoots his female companion a pointed look. “Chris…”

“He’s the best man _any_ of us have ever known, Geoff,” she points out heatedly, her voice tight and a sadness in her eyes that looks a lot like grief. “God knows he didn’t deserve it.”

At the counter, Janice snorts. “ _God_ had nothing to do with it.”

Silence reigns the diner as Chris and Geoff turn their eyes to the photograph on the wall. “Well, you’re right about that at least,” Chris sighs.

Then, after what seems like a heartbeat, Chris and Geoff continue their conversation and Janice turns to put the coffee pot back on the heater as if nothing happened, no words spoken between them.

No-one says another word to Jim, who sits at the counter, lonesome and his mind running a mile a minute.

He leaves fifteen minutes later, throwing a few bills on the counter next to his completely full cup of coffee.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come say hi on [Tumblr](http://thevalesofanduin.tumblr.com/) <3


	7. Chapter 7

The tires of the car pulling up at the front porch is loud in the air, silencing the birds who fly off with a loud flutter of their wings, the leaves of the tree rustling in their wake as Jim throws open the door of the truck.

The moment he left the diner his mind has been overtaken with thoughts, with ideas, with _fears._ His thoughts are all over the place, a jumbled mess of apprehensive and confusion and snippets of conversation.

_She didn’t deal with it very well, and now they’re both gone_

_She’s very pretty – yes, that she was_

_Beautiful woman, wasn’t she?_

It’s almost funny how he never realized that whenever Leonard was talking about his wife and daughter, it was in past tense.

_Was, was, gone_

There’s an apprehensive flutter in his chest as he steps onto the porch, to the front door.

_Gone_

_God had nothing to do with it_

“Jim?”

Leonard comes rushing out of the living-room the moment Jim enters, worried frown on his face.

Jim comes to a halt in the middle of the hallway, looks at Leonard for a moment, breathless. Then his eyes find the stairs, slide up and when he turns them back to Leonard wonders _what the fuck happened here._

Part of his mind screams at him, tells him that he doesn’t have _any_ right to demand answers from Leonard. He’s a stranger, an intruder and he wasn’t meant to overhear the conversation in the diner in the first place.

That might be true, and it might also be the case that he doesn’t believe in the paranormal side of the world but he’s not _stupid_ – in denial perhaps, but not stupid.

His dread finds its way out of him through words harsher than he wanted, eyes almost pleading as they rest on Leonard. “What happened?”

Leonard frowns. “Excuse me?”

“To your wife and daughter. What happened.” Jim’s voice shakes slightly, his muscles taut with tension and a fear lurking in the back of his mind.

_Gone_

The frown falls from Leonard’s face, making room for shock first and a pained anger after. He moves back slightly, crossing his arms in front of his chest and he glares at Jim with pain shining clearly in his eyes. “I’m not sure if that’s any of your business.”

Jim’s frustration from moments before mellows at Leonard’s reaction. His anger at feeling left out and, somehow, betrayed seem silly all of a sudden and what remains is an apprehension, a fear almost that makes him softly say: “But something happened. Here, in this house.”

Leonard hesitates, his face an array of emotions and he takes a deep, unsteady breath while looking down.

“Leonard, please,” Jim pleads, now fueled by fear. Because: “I feel like I’m going insane in this house,” he admits. Finally says it out loud. He grimaces, wraps his arms around his own chest and continues: “And then when I was at the diner they mentioned something happened. It’s not me going crazy, is it?”

If he sounds desperate, so be it. But by now he can’t deny that he’s _seeing something,_ or at least experiencing something and he needs answers. Needs to know what’s going on because it scares and confuses him more than he cares to admit.

“It’s…” the fight seems to leave Leonard, his shoulders sag and a tormented sigh passes his lips. “It’s not.”

When he raises his eyes to Jim, there’s tears threatening to fall, his visage pale and his hands shake as much as his voice. “I came home one day and the house was on fire.”

Jim’s heart breaks at just those words and all he can think is _oh no_

“Jocelyn, she’d…” Leonard swallows heavily. “Christ, Jim she snapped and set the house on fire. I don’t even remember much of it. Jo was upstairs, I heard her cry and I ran upstairs but I couldn’t…” Leonard trails off, a heart wrenching sob escaping him.

Jim rushes forward, envelops Leonard in his arms and lets the man hide his face in the crook of his neck, hiding from the world. His own heart aches for Leonard, for his loss.

Jim shouldn’t be surprised by the truth, he knows he shouldn’t but he still is.

Still feels that while it _explains_ things, he wishes the reason had been something else altogether. Something less devastating.

“I couldn’t save her Jim. My little girl,” Leonard cries, hands gripping Jim’s shirt and his voice hoarse and heartbroken. “How could she? Her own daughter.”

As he holds a mourning father, part of Jim wishes he hadn’t asked.

 

\---

 

Jim holds Leonard that night, neither of them sleeping a lot.

Leonard because he is haunted by visions of his family and Jim for the same reason, yet it is also completely different.

The giggles, the footsteps, the broken picture frame and the unsettling feeling of being watched… After hearing what happened to his daughter and ex-wife, Jim’s suddenly very aware of the fact that it’s not just Leonard’s mind that’s haunted with visions of his family.

It makes the house feel less terrifying and now, instead, it breaks Jim’s heart.

He wonders, fleetingly, if Leonard _knows_ the ghost of his little girl is still roaming the house, playing what seems like hide-and-seek with the living.

But he doesn’t dare ask.

 

\---

 

The next morning when the sun rises it feels as if the heartbreak from the previous night has set together with the moon.

There’s a lingering sadness when Leonard kisses the side of Jim’s head, murmurs a “thank you,” while Jim tangles his fingers in Leonard’s shirt, offering an “I’m sorry.”

Breakfast is a quiet affair with coffee and toast and they sit side by side, their elbows touching as they watch the dust dance in the rays of the sun.

Jim’s just finishing the last sip of his coffee when he sighs heavily, looking down into his cup with a sad frown as he announces that “I have to leave tomorrow.”

“Oh,” Leonard mumbles and puts his cup down on the table in front of him. “We should probably finish work on the car today.”

“Yea,” Jim nods and that’s that.

They work on the car together for the remainder of the morning, chatting and laughing and ignoring the fact that tomorrow reality is looming. That perhaps this was only a “summer fling” and after today they need to face real life again.

Leonard makes dinner, Jim makes dessert and just like the first night they drink bourbon on the porch.

It’s only when they’re in bed that night – Leonard’s – that the reality of the situation seems to sink in.

Their lovemaking that night is tender, loving and slow as if each of them tries to savor every small detail of it. And afterwards, they lie awake in each other’s arms for what seems like hours with hushed conversations, lingering touches and longing glances.

“You’re amazing,” Leonard whispers in Jim’s hair. One of his hands woven through blond locks and the other settled over Jim’s side while Jim’s hands stroke down Leonard’s back. “You showed me there’s good people in this world. Love.”

“Len…” Jim breathes and leans back slightly so he can look at Leonard with big, surprised yet happy eyes.

“I’ll miss you,” Leonard murmurs wistfully, stroking his hand to Jim’s cheek and cupping it in his palm as he watches the other.

“I’ll come back,” Jim promises and leans in to place a soft, tender kiss against Leonard’s lips.

Leonard doesn’t reply, just holds him a bit closer.

 

\---

 

The next day, Jim leaves.

As he’s driving there’s no music accompanying the roar of the V8, no windows open to let the Autumn air in and play with his hair.

He just drives and thinks that he misses Leonard already.

 

\---

 

After the solitude and quiet romance of staying in Georgia with Leonard, staying in Des Moines with his family is an absolute nightmare.

Half a day back and Jim’s already reminded why he left.

His mother’s sad eyes whenever she looks at him because, apparently, he looks too much like his father and if anyone dares say _Jim_ hasn’t moved on from his father’s death then they haven’t met his mother. Frank’s constant sneering and joke-covered-insults because apparently his step-father thinks Jim’s a disappointment. Sam’s open frustration and disregard because Jim is an adult now so he should stop acting like an unruly teenager.

During dinner - which is as tense as a wire about to snap - Jim constantly wonders why he didn’t just stay at Leonard’s place.

The only good thing about all of this is when Sam’s wife Aurelan places the little bundle that is their newborn Peter in Jim’s arms.

His mother’s worried comment and Sam’s threatening warning fall away as Aurelan patiently and gently shows Jim how to properly hold the baby.

“Hi buddy, I’m your uncle Jim,” Jim murmurs and when Peter looks up at him with big, bright eyes and sputters a bit, Jim’s heart melts.

 

That night, Jim sits cross-legged on the bed in his old room, streetlights casting their glow into his room and the rumble of constant traffic wafting in through the half-open window.

His mind, however, is on a farmhouse in rural Georgia.

On Leonard.

His heart longs for the man. He misses him, terribly so.

Yet his heart also weeps for Leonard, for when he thinks back to what holding Peter felt like he can barely begin to imagine how it must feel to hold your own child.

And then lose her.

He takes a shaky breath and thinks it’s only too bad Leonard doesn’t have a mobile phone – really, how old-fashioned can you be? It’s still sad, because Jim would’ve loved to call the man now, offer some kind words, _hear his voice_.

He should get Leonard to buy a phone when he’s back there after the baptism.

Christ, how much he misses the man.

_You lovesick fool_ , he tells himself.

And as befits a lovesick fool, now that he has some time - and wifi - to himself he takes out his phone and Googles Leonard.

It’s curiosity that leads him, a drive to know more about this man that’s served the army and lost _everything_.

There are some short articles that merely mention Leonard’s name, but then his eyes fall onto a headline.

_House fire kills young family torn apart by divorce_

It’s not quite the article Jim’s looking because it’s not about Leonard but he opens the link anyway.

What he reads, however, makes his blood run cold.

_Wednesday afternoon firefighters responded to a house fire at the McCoy household._

_Dr. Leonard McCoy (38), who served in the Medical Corps and after ran the town’s doctor’s office, called the fire in himself yet sadly, to no avail. By the time firefighters arrived at the house, mother, father and daughter had perished._

_A spokesperson for the police force has confirmed an investigation will be carried out as to find the origins of the fire. Yet the community has already made up their mind and multiple people have confided they think it is the mother, Jocelyn McCoy nee Darnell (34), that set the fire herself. These rumors follow a grueling divorce and custody battle which left Dr. McCoy the main custodian of their daughter, Joanna (8)._

_Family and friends mourn the loss of a beloved family and the community is left wondering how a mother can kill her own child._

It seems as if all life has been torn out of Jim.

His mind’s drawing a blank and his limbs feel heavy, his mind screaming at him in confusion and disbelief.

Dr. Leonard McCoy, father, _perished_

He sits on his bed, phone clenched in trembling hands and eyes fixated on the screen wondering who the _fuck_ he’s gone and fallen in love with if Leonard McCoy is dead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're nearing the end, guys! One more chapter to go...


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the last chapter, ladies and gentlemen! I have finally finished this piece that I started in March and, funnily enough, the last paragraphs of this fic were the first I wrote down. 16.400 words, all just to get to that ending. It’s been one hell of a ride and I’ve loved writing this, plotting it, planning it and I love, love, love all of your reactions and ideas and thoughts. Thanks, everyone, for reading and commenting and just loving this piece of fanfic as much as I love it.

Jim leaves right after the baptism.

“Jim, honey, you just got here,” his mother says as she stands a bit forlorn next to the car, watching as Jim stuffs his bags in the trunk.

“And now I’m leaving,” he mumbles as he pushes his bag to the back of the trunk.

“Is it this man you met?” his mother asks and the frown on her face is even audible in her voice. “You’re going back, right?”

At the mention of Leonard, Jim feels a whole range of emotions bubble up inside of him. Anger, hurt, _confusion_ , he hides it all in an irritated sigh as he closes the trunk with a loud click. “I would have left either way, mom.” He turns to his mother with accusation on his face. “You know that.”

Winona sighs. “I just hoped that we could make this work.”

“Me too, mom,” he whispers and turns his eyes to the front door where Frank stands, disdainful eyes resting on them. Jim sighs harshly and shakes his head. “Me too.”

He doesn’t have to say anything else.

His mother’s made her choice, Jim knows that.

It’s just unfortunate for him that that choice is the man standing in the doorway of what used to be a place Jim could call home, but those days have long since passed.

 

\---

 

The drive down to Georgia is like torture.

No easy, relaxed cruising this time around. No enjoying the music and the rush of the wind through a half-open car window. No stops in quaint little towns to enjoy a drink and local produce.

It’s fast, tense driving with Jim’s knuckles white as they clench the steering wheel, a frown set on his face as his eyes are set on the road in front of him.

In his mind, a storm of questions brews.

 

The first night he stays in a small motel and sits on the bed for what feels like hours, staring at his phone, at the article.

Reading it again and again and again as if doing so will change the words in it.

Will change the reality of it.

Dr. Leonard McCoy, father, _perished_

He falls asleep with tears in his eyes and he dreams of Leonard’s white house being engulfed by the fire, how Leonard screams for his daughter while Jim stands outside rooted to the ground.

He wakes up before the crack of dawn, limbs shaking and sweat on his brow thinking he can taste smoke on his tongue.

 

It’s like he drives faster the next day, an urgency having settled in his bones, a dread in his veins and in his chest, he thinks his heart is breaking.

Because who is Leonard?

Or maybe, his mind supplies, _what_?

He dreams of grey eyes that night, of lips against his and of fingers dancing on his skin. Of a soft, wistful murmur of _I’ll miss you_.

Like Leonard knew something was wrong, over, like time had run out.

Something cold has settled in Jim when he steps into his car the next morning and as he pulls out onto the road, he finds himself grieving.

Somehow, he knows he won’t see Leonard again.

 

\---

 

It’s ironic, that when Jim pulls into the drive leading up to Leonard’s house _I can’t help falling in love_ jumps on.

That when he nears the house he’s thinking of dancing in the kitchen with Leonard, swaying gently and intimately to the soft tunes and sharing a sweet kiss that momentarily still lingers on Jim’s lips.

Yet as he comes closer and closer to the house the music seems to fade into the background, his world narrowing down to the house.

Or rather, what’s left of it.

He’s on auto-pilot as he stops the car, leaves the engine running as he numbly gets out of the car – _Darling, so it goes_

His whole body shakes – _some things are meant to be –_ feels cold as he grabs the roof of his car with a trembling hand – _take my hand, take me whole life too –_ and Elvis Presley sings the theme song to Jim’s life falling apart – _for I can't help falling in love with you_

Because the house in front of him isn’t white. There are no deck chairs with flaking paint on the front-porch even though Jim vividly remembers them being there, but only God knows how.

No Jim, he tells himself as he takes an unsteady breath, not God.

The Devil. It has to be, for God has nothing to do with _this._

Because the house in front of him isn’t white, isn’t even in one piece. It’s close to collapsing onto itself with the signs of a fire written all over it and watching it, Jim feels like collapsing himself.

He stayed here.

Spent almost a week here, falling in love with the man living here.

It wasn’t a dream, he knows it wasn’t.

But then, what _was_ it?

A red pick-up passes by on the street but Jim hardly notices it.

The sudden screech of tires as the truck makes a U-turn and turns into the drive, however, he does notice.

He turns to watch the truck speeding towards him, red as blood and surrounded by loose sand flying high in the air and a nervous apprehension courses through him.

An older woman gets out of the truck, her checked blouse rustling in the soft wind and she brushes a stray strand of grey hair out of her face, tucking it up into the bun with deft fingers. She looks pale, though, and her eyes are wide and slightly fearful when she speaks: “What are ya doing here, Darlin’?”

_Darlin’_

A shudder rakes through Jim’s spine, a cold fear settling in his gut.

That tone, it sounds familiar.

“I’m…” He turns to the house and swallows even though his throat is suddenly dry as a desert. “I don’t know.”

“Oh Darlin’,” the woman sighs and gives Jim a friendly smile that’s tinged with a lingering sadness. “Why don’t we go have some tea at my house. I baked a peach cobbler this morning, you can have a piece.”

 

\---

 

Her name is Eleonore McCoy, Leonard’s mother, and she serves Jim home-made cobbler and sweet iced tea in the comforts of her kitchen.

“My boy, he died in that fire but he didn’t pass. Didn’t move on.” Eleonore holds her own glass tightly between her hands, her eyes staring out of the window wistfully, as if she’s imagining a time long ago. In what is most likely Leonard’s childhood home, she might very well be.

Jim is also thinking of another time, yet this one not so long ago. To holding a crying Leonard in his arms, a broken man wondering how a mother could kill her own daughter.

No, he thinks, Eleonore is right. Leonard didn’t move on.

Not at all.

But somehow, _now_ he has.

As if she’s reading Jim’s mind, Eleonore sighs. “We couldn’t… the world works in mysterious ways, for us it was never anything than the house you saw today. But we could sense it, you know? His presence. Knew he was still there,” she says and then turns knowing eyes to Jim. “But for you it wasn’t just a burned down house, was it?”

Jim shakes his head, can’t force any words out of his throat at the moment.

He’s beyond questioning how, for somehow he knows he won’t get answers to that because no-one _has_ the answers to those kind of questions. But there is one word that’s haunting his mind.

_Why?_

“He must’ve seen something in you he knew we couldn’t give him,” Eleonore muses.

Jim sits at the table and stares at his plate.

Hears Leonard say “y _ou showed me there’s good people in this world. Love,”_ and suddenly he realizes why.

Realizes that Leonard, with how much he loved his daughter, probably hadn’t been able to accept their fates. Their deaths. Had been keeping not only himself there, but his whole family.

That it was Jim himself – his ambition, his laughter, his _love_ – that made Leonard accept his fate.

“Was he happy in the end, at least?” Eleonore asks, a small tremble in her voice.

Jim smiles, shakily and with tears in his eyes as he promises Leonard’s grieving mother: “he was.”

Eleonore nods, turns her eyes back to the tree outside in the back yard and whispers: “and now my boy has finally found peace.”

 

\---

 

When Eleonore brings Jim back to his car, she tells him where Leonard and his little girl – Joanna – are buried. “If you want to say goodbye,” she offers with a sad, knowing smile.

Jim doesn’t know quite what he says in reply. Thanks her, probably. Watches her drive off numbly before getting into the driver’s seat of his car.

But he doesn’t go to the graveyard.

Instead, he sits in his car and cries.

Cries and screams at the house that has given him everything before taking it away, because it was never his to have.

He cries and griefs and mourns and thinks _Leonard, oh Leonard._

His heart in exchange for Leonard’s eternal peace isn’t much, he knows it isn’t.

But that doesn’t mean it feels any less like his heart has just been ripped out.

By the time he starts the car to continue his way back to Miami, the sky is coloring pink and purple in a beautiful dawn.

But he doesn’t see it, drives away with the steering wheel clenched in his trembling hands and tears still clinging to his eyes.

He doesn’t look back at the house.

Yet when he races away from town, the Autumn leaves rustling underneath his tires, he’s certain he hears a whisper. Feels a warm breath against his ear and cold fingers sliding over his cheek.

“Love you, Darlin’,”

He never comes back to Georgia and he never forgets Leonard, whose face forever haunts him in the dark.

**... the end**

**Author's Note:**

> Come say hi on [Tumblr](http://thevalesofanduin.tumblr.com/) <3


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